


Take a Moment

by moonstruckbucky



Series: The Billy Hargrove Chronicles [16]
Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:14:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstruckbucky/pseuds/moonstruckbucky





	Take a Moment

Holidays weren’t a regular occurrence for Billy. Susan and Neil never did much of anything for Easter, except he and Max would get small Easter baskets from Susan (and he had to give her props for trying). Independence Day was spent in a constant state of inebriation at the quarry for a massive bonfire; Labor Day was a joke, and Christmas was mostly for Max, who spent the morning parked in front of the tree opening her gifts while Billy watched on from the kitchen with a sour look on his face because when had Neil every smiled at him like that?

Thanksgiving was the only holiday where he was actually included, but this year, when you asked him at the end of October what his plans for the holiday were, he flat out lied.

“Nothing.”

So, in typical you fashion, you invited him for Thanksgiving dinner with your family. At first, he was ready to agree, but once he learned that it wouldn’t just be your immediate family, but some aunts, uncles, and cousins as well, the nerves quickly set in.

Now, here he was, standing on your doorstep in his nicest pair of hole-less jeans, clean shoes, and a button-down shirt (”With  _all_  the buttons done up, Billy”), holding a bottle of wine and some flowers for the table or wherever, and knocking on the door with his shoe. Fortunately, you answered the door with a flourish, and Billy’s breath got caught in his throat.

He’d seen you dress up for dates before. Cute little skirts and blouses that would come home wrinkled, but he swore you’d never looked better than you did right now. A blue dress adorned your figure, bringing out your skin tone perfectly. Your hair was done prettily and makeup flawless, and what completed it was the radiant smile you gifted him once you saw him.

“Billy! You’re early!” you chirped brightly and bounced up on your toes to press an enthusiastic kiss to his mouth. “Oh, you brought Mom’s favorite! Come on in.”

Billy followed behind you, sluggish, as if there were weights in his shoes. He could hear your mother and someone else in the kitchen, and his stomach flipped when he realized that was where you were leading him. Your mother was bent in front of the oven, basting the turkey and checking the temperatures, while an older woman mashed sweet potatoes at the counter beside her. 

Two women, who he guessed were your aunts, stood at the island, each with a full glass of wine, chatting while they folded napkins and organized place settings.

“Look who’s here!” you cried happily, grinning broadly at Billy. The best he could do was a shaky smile as your mom squeaked and abandoned the turkey to pull him into a hug.

It hadn’t always been that easy between Billy and your mom. When you first introduced them, your mother was set on believing he was nothing more than trouble with a capital T. From the cigarettes in his shirt pocket to the half-unbuttoned shirt, Billy screamed “bad boy” and for a while he went without your mother’s approval.

The one thing that changed her mind was one evening when the two of you were in the dining room, studying. Billy was shockingly good at math and chemistry and offered to tutor you in the latter. He had a knack for chemical equations, and after some thought (”What’s the catch, Hargrove?”), you accepted his help. It didn’t take very long for you to grow frustrated, unable to complete an equation accurately. Billy, to your mother’s surprise, was patient and encouraging, showing you where and why your equations were wrong and helping you to make them right.

“You’re smart, Y/N, really smart, and I know you can figure this out. Just take a deep breath, think, and apply.”

Your mother’s attitude about the boy changed almost overnight after that, and she began to invite him over for family dinners. It felt weird to him for a while, sitting down and having actual conversation. The first time your father pulled him into a discussion about the Bulls chances of clinching a championship, and Billy merely gaped for half a second too long before he stammered out a response. He wasn’t used to being asked his opinion on anything, really, unless it was you. He wasn’t used to pleasant conversation over dining, family bonding time, and deep in his heart he was envious.

Later that night, you’d managed to force it out of him why he’d gotten so closed off halfway through dinner, and he’d told you, admitted that it was just so unusual that he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act. You didn’t pity him for his shitty home life; instead, you and your family welcomed him as one of your own.

But just because he felt welcomed didn’t mean he wasn’t shaking in his boots as he met your aunts.

They were your mother’s younger sisters, just barely in their thirties, and they had quite a bit to say  _about_  Billy  _to_ Billy. Under normal circumstances, he’d have been ready to charm the pants off both of them,  _quite literally_ , but these were not normal circumstances, and he struggled through a conversation with them. When he mentioned he played basketball, they nearly shattered his eardrums with their excited squealing.

“Okay, okay,” you chided with an annoyed sigh. “That’s enough. He’s my boyfriend, not a hunk of meat.”

Billy smirked. He knew your jealousy was something you were insecure about, but he’d be lying through his teeth if he said it didn’t get him at least a little hot. All your best moves came out with your claws, and Billy knew just how to make you purr.

Your aunts each rolled their eyes, settling for a calmer discussion about plans after high school. This Billy could talk about. You were helping him apply to schools, some of them the same that you were applying to since your grades weren’t all that different. When that conversation lulled, you lead Billy into the living room, where your father, uncles, and cousins were engrossed in a football game. Bears at Lions.

Introductions were made, and then you left Billy with a beer and a sinking feeling in his gut as he sat next to your uncle and tried to watch the game. He listened as the men jibed back and forth at one another, always in jest and always on safe topics. It was strange on his ears, and the feeling in his stomach only worsened.

He set his beer on the table when he noticed his hands shaking and nearly fainted when he realized he hadn’t put a coaster down. Involuntarily he closed his eyes and waited for a harsh reprimand or a slap to the face, but nothing came except for a solid hand on his shoulder. He flinched automatically, shame putting pink in his cheeks.

His chest felt tight and his lungs struggled to pull in air. He opened his eyes to see your uncle looking at him in concern, and it tipped his impending panic attack over the edge.

“Excuse me,” he gasped. He shot up from his chair and nearly ran to the bathroom, locking himself inside.

His breathing was coming even harder now, and tears had begun to prick his eyes. He felt warm and he felt caged in, but the living room felt too big. Too much space. The bathroom was too cramped. His skin was too hot. He sat in the bathtub, raking back the curtain and replacing it. He rested his elbows on his bent knees, bowing his head in an attempt to get his breathing back to normal.

Two knocks sounded at the door. “Billy?”

Oh no, you couldn’t see him like this. Billy never fell apart. You couldn’t see this.

“Billy, I’m coming in okay?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, releasing a few tears that had built up, and then the curtain was pulled back and your hands were in his hair.

“Billy, are you all right?” You were sitting on the edge of the tub, watching him with worry. His fingers were trembling where they rested on his knees. His breathing was slowing, finally, and the burning in his chest was ebbing away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered thickly, wiping his eyes. Your hand stilled in his hair.

“Why are you sorry?” you questioned.

“For losing my shit. For…for falling apart like that. You shouldn’t have to see that.”

Your face contorted in confusion. “B, you’re my boyfriend. You’re allowed to lose it if you feel overwhelmed. Can I ask what triggered it?”

Billy bit down on his bottom lip, worrying at it as he thought. Finally he shrugged.

“Normalcy. I just…your dad and uncles were all talking and joking and I put my beer down but there wasn’t a coaster and I….”

“You were expecting a reaction like Neil’s,” you finished. He nodded slowly. You sighed quietly, and Billy closed his eyes in shame, waited for you to tell him how pathetic he was.

Almost as soon as that thought entered his head, he reprimanded himself. You weren’t like Neil. You didn’t tear him down, make him feel worthless. You made him feel good, like he was something, like he had a chance.

He opened his eyes, head tilting to look up at you. Your eyes were wet with tears you were holding back, tears for him, and he wordlessly opened his arms. You practically fell into the tub in your rush to hold him. You ended up in his lap, cradling his head to your chest.

His arms were warm around your waist, heat seeping through your dress. A hug from Billy was one of your all-time favorite things. While his body was firm with muscle, he was expressly gentle with his hugs and his touches. You knew it was because, deep down, he was still afraid of losing control, of hurting beyond repair. So he slowed his motions, touched briefly with his fingertips before letting the rest of his hand explore. You relished in those moments. They made you feel safe, loved.

“You mean everything to me, and you’re important to my family. They see you like one of their own,” you explained. You pulled back a little to look down at him, to brush one singular curl off his forehead. “Any time you need anything, ever, even if it’s just a place to get away, you come here. Even if I’m not home yet or… One of my parents is almost always here. I’ll even give you a key. But if you need to escape, that door is always open for you.”

Emotion welled up in Billy’s eyes and he had to blink a few times to clear it. Clearing his throat, he nodded and sniffed once before burying his head back into your neck.

“I think dinner’s almost ready. Are you okay to come out or do you need a minute?” you questioned softly, sliding your fingers into his hair. He exhaled deeply but shook his head and leaned back.

“No, I’m good. Let’s go. I should apologize for being rude and running out of there.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly. “You don’t need to. They get it, okay? Come on, before my aunts eat all the cranberry sauce.”


End file.
